xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Kryssie Fortune: March 2015

Monday, 30 March 2015

Where There’s a Will - from the Writer's Bureau Blog…

Carole Taylor’s a stubborn lass. Even back at school she told everyone that, one day, she was going to write a book. Now, granted, she did get a bit side-tracked raising a family (and with her daughter the deputy head of a London primary school, son a departmental leader in an international bank, I think we can assume she put a reasonable amount of effort into that.)

 More recently, there’s been a major health scare with her heart. And now, as well as working part time for a TV production company, her first grandchild’s appeared on the scene … Nonetheless, she never did give up on that book thing and, in the end, didn’t just write one, but five. They’re not only written either, she’s had them all published as ebooks by an American online publisher. So, if any of you out there were thinking it was too late to get started on a writing career – read on.

Carole’s from Yorkshire in the UK. Under the name Kryssie Fortune she writes erotic, romantic fantasy full of vampires, dragons, witches, fae and werewolves. Her books are selling online through Amazon and Barnes and Noble, and one of them, To Wed a Werewolf, has already been featured in USA Today. But she only seriously started putting pen to paper after her heart surgery. 

That was touch and go, for a while. One of her valves collapsed, and the odds were stacked against her coming through at all. Somehow though, she made it and, afterward, decided it was time to “Chase some dreams."

Recalling that time she says: “I kept seeing Writers Bureau adverts and, honestly, I thought it was a con. I mean, money back if you fail? Come on!” But her husband enrolled her anyway. And since then? Well, she’s done alright.

Carole’s tutor showed her how to write for ‘specific markets,’ so when she saw a request for stories on the Loose Id website, she knew how to put one together that fit their guidelines. “I didn’t know I was a screamer,” she says. “But when I opened the email accepting my novella, I screamed so loud my husband thought someone was attacking me.” 

Now she’s got the best editor – funny, knowledgable and clever. There’s also a team of cover artists who work with her on market friendly designs that she approves before publication. Like all authors, she has to do a lot of her own marketing, and you can check out her Facebook page if you want to see how she’s getting on with that, but her publisher does a fair share of promotional work too. And then, there’s the royalties. She gets paid every three months and says: “I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the size of the cheques.”

So, there y’go. It didn’t happen overnight, and she’s not a millionaire just yet, but Carole Taylor’s star is definitely in the ascendant. “My current favourite authors all write paranormal,” she says. “And one day, I want to be one of the greats.” Well, of course she does. And the way things are going, there’s absolutely no reason why she shouldn’t make it. Sherrilyn KenyonDavid EddingsKresley Cole; Kryssie Fortune … sounds good to me.
Keep on writing!
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Saturday, 28 March 2015

Who knew Werewolves like Cake – Poppy seed Cake Recipe

Ellie, my heroine from  To Mate a Werewolf, discovered the way to werewolf’s heart was though his stomach. Her baking even got her proposed to – but not by the alpha wolf she’d loved for almost two years.  

"Ellie had matured into a strong-minded woman who carried herself tall as though she mattered. She’d have liked her eyes better if they didn’t glow in the dark. A would-be Lykae lover once compared them to the vibrant green of the Mediterranean Sea. She hadn’t believed him, but his smooth talking got him a huge slice of her poppy seed cake."

Here’s Ellie's Poppy Seed Cake Recipe.


50g poppy seeds
60ml milk
125g butter, softened
280g caster sugar
3 eggs
zest of 1 orange, finely chopped
zest of 1 lemon, finely chopped
250g cups self-raising flour
30ml sour cream or milk
60ml orange juice.


Mix the poppy seeds and milk in a small bowl and leave to soak.
Preheat oven to 160°C. Grease a 20cm round cake tin and line with baking paper.
Use an electric mixer to beat the butter and sugar until pale and creamy. Add the citrus rind and then the eggs one at a time, beating well between adding each egg.
Add the flour, sour cream (or milk), orange juice and poppy seed mixture and mix until just combined.
Pour into cake tin and bake for 40-45 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean.
Cool in tin for 10 minutes before turning out onto a wire rack.
To make icing, beat cream cheese, icing sugar and lemon juice until smooth. When the cake is cold spread the icing over the top of the cake.
This recipe was created by Melissa Hughes for Kidspot.com.

The scars on Ellie Padget’s cheek are a constant reminder of the times she tried to escape from sexual slavery. Two years ago, Joel—alpha in waiting of the Tundra-Tough pack—led the rescue party that freed her. She’s loved him ever since.

Their relationship finally explodes into steaming sex, but he offers to pay her off. She walks away with her head high and her heart shattered. When she learns of a plot to destroy Joel and his pack, her only option is return to his side and warn him.

Joel has to fight to retain the pack that should be his by right, and no one can leave until the pack has a new alpha. He’s horrified when Ellie turns up on the night he’s to meet the woman he’s agreed to marry but never met. She’s stuck there until he claims his birthright. Finally, he realizes Ellie’s his true mate. Now he has to choose between his arranged marriage, and the one woman he truly loves. Will he choose with his head or his heart?

To Mate a Werewolf is a stand alone story within the Scattered Siblings series.

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Who’d have thought that deep rumbling noise Joel made could be so sexy? When he caged Ellie with his body, her nipples ached, and liquid honey filled her cunt. Her legs trembled, and her pussy throbbed with sensual need. Shyly, she looped her arms around his neck and glanced around the cliff top. Whitby Abbey towered over them, and waves lapped at the harbor below. The town was just coming to life, and no tourists had ventured up there yet. Glad they were alone, she stepped still closer, and let Joel’s body warm her. 

Two years back, when the Elves still imprisoned her, they’d have punished her for seeking even a temporary comfort. Today Joel held her as if she was precious and perfect. His cologne reminded her of fresh mountain streams or hoarfrost shimmering in dawn’s first light. His hair felt soft and silky as she twirled the ends around her fingers. 

Joel growled again. The sound vibrated through her body, sending shock waves of pleasure exploding through her. She’d never felt so alive or so eager as when his lips brushed her ear. Every touch of his hand, even the way his breath tickled as it flowed over her neck, was a new delight for her to savor. 

For someone who’d been abused in terrible ways, her body thrummed with carnal desires. The heat Joel sparked inside her shattered the barriers she’d erected to block out her six months of sexual slavery. Two years of easy acceptance from Joel’s squadron of Lykae soldiers had helped rebuild her confidence. 

She’d loved Joel from the start. He’d led the rescue party that freed her from sexual slavery and held her while the drugs the Elves had tipped down her throat had worn off. After the sex-potions wore off and Ellie was safe, he’d kept his distance. 

Now, he wanted her as much as she wanted him, if the way his cock bulged beneath his pants was anything to go by. They didn’t have a future, but this interlude with Joel—and it could never be more—would finally put her past behind her. 

This one-sided-love thing sucked. She’d dreamed of so much more, but maybe just once she could have meaningless sex with Joel. Afterward she’d still need to move on. 

Other Lykae males had tried to date her, but her stupid heart demanded she save herself for Joel. If only he didn’t have eyes of the same clear blue as the turquoise beads in his hair, maybe she wouldn’t have hurt so badly. Add in his sculpted cheekbones and dirty blond hair that was striped with a dozen different shades of brown, and she was lost.Damn, he’s as handsome as he is…lickable. 

Today she set out to reclaim the life she’d lived before she knew about Elves and Lykae, but moving on hurt. This morning she’d fled the otherworld, but leaving Joel behind had etched cracks in her heart. They ran deeper than the scars Broken Nose had carved in her cheek. 

Not that Joel ever wanted her before today. 

Ellie leaned into him and wrapped one leg around his calf. Her lips parted, and he moved closer, a fraction of an inch at a time, giving her the chance to turn away and refuse him. Not that she would. She’d dreamed of his lips on hers or his hands on her breasts, and today her secret fantasies were coming true. 

Determined not to let the moment pass, she went up on tiptoe and buried her hands in his hair. He moved closer until his lips hovered over hers. 

“Don’t stop,” she begged. 

He took control, dominating her, demanding everything—and she gave it willingly. His lips were firm against hers, possessive and masterful. His kiss sent shivers of excitement down her spine. When his tongue tangled with hers, she ran her soft, military-style trainer up and down his calf. With a soft sigh, she arched her back and thrust her breasts forward in invitation. 

Joel groaned and kissed his way down her neck. She breathed in quick, sharp gasps. Again Ellie curled her fingers in his hair, tugging gently. 

He slid his hands under her T-shirt and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. She moaned as if he’d hotwired her sex drive. Maybe he had, but she wasn’t complaining. He stared into her eyes, patient, giving her chance to deny him. Instead, she nodded slightly, then shuddered with delight as he trailed his fingers around her midriff. And there went her bra. She hadn’t even realized he’d unfastened it, and now it lay at her feet along with the regulation black-and-turquoise T-shirt she didn’t remember shedding. 

She felt vulnerable, making out on the cliff, breasts bared, but these moments with Joel were precious—memories that would sustain her as she rebuilt her life. His warriors’ hands felt rough against her soft skin. She loved the new sensations he woke inside her. Heat rolled through her, simmering and warming her blood. 

With Joel, she’d learn how sex should be. She’d forget the way the Elves had forced her to perform sex acts for their pleasure, and move on. She wanted that more than anything. If only Joel would stop moving in slow motion. He was clearly willing to stop if his touch brought back too many bad memories, and she loved him all the more for it. But…Damn it. He’s killing me with kindness. 

Ellie wanted a fierce loving she’d remember all her life. Instead he gave her a leisurely seduction that drove her crazy. She shivered when he tongued her left nipple. He stroked and caressed the other between his finger and thumb. His touch fired her up, made her blaze with sensual hunger. She’d never needed anyone this way. Even without the Elves’ nymphomaniac potions, her body burned for Joel. 

Here on Whitby cliff top, he carried her into a world of sensation and animalistic pleasure. If she’d been a Lykae, she’d have howled with delight. Her nipples peaked, and the damp heat spread through her cunt. 

Ecstasy, this stolen liaison with Joel Blackheart was pure ecstasy. Addictive too. The taste of his lips and the hard planes of her body as he pressed against her gave her a tantalizing glimpse of things she could never fully possess. 

It didn’t matter that their love all flowed from her to him. She needed him to show her how great sex could be. With Joel, she could replace all her bad memories with something honest and good. When her hand brushed against his cock, it pulsed. For a moment she hesitated, then closed her hand around it. Big. So big. Lykae are definitely better hung than Elves. 

“More,” she whispered. “I need more.” 

Joel looked around, checking their surroundings. 

Doesn’t he want to be seen with me? No one else ventured up to Whitby Abbey at this time of year. It was still early by Lykae military standards, and by their standards, it was almost time for a midmorning snack. I wish he’d snack on me. 

He gathered her in his arms and leaped the high barrier enclosing the abbey grounds. Somehow she managed to scoop up her clothes. She had to leave her kit bag, but there was no one here to rifle through it. Then she relaxed and enjoyed being in the arms of the man she loved. Despite the way she nestled against his chest, he landed with feral grace. Ellie grinned, glad he’d found somewhere private. 

She was going to have sex—not the soul-shaming, force-you kind. This would be sex tinged with respect and kindness, something she’d never experienced before. Deep down she longed for soul-shattering sex, the sort that melded two people into one, but it couldn’t be. Not when he didn’t love her. 

She’d always been able to pretend things were the way she wanted, not the way they were. For now, she’d pretend they were together forever, and accept anything Joel offered. Mated? Me and a Lykae alpha. So not happening but… 

“Dreaming,” her mother had called it between mouthfuls of gin. 

Joel sniffed the air, tilted his head, and listened. Seagulls screeched, and way at the bottom of the cliff, fishermen joked as they landed their catch. Ellie could barely hear them, but she’d lay odds Joel could distinguish every word. Once he decided the area was secure, he laid her on a mossy bank. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as his hungry gaze swept over her. 

Come on, Joel. Fuck me, please. 

She lay, leg bent at the knee, hair mussed, and lips swollen from his kiss. Her nipples beaded as Joel’s tongue made slow, sensual strokes against hers. Everything inside her cried out for him to lick her breasts, or better still, her pussy. 

He stared at her the way a starving gourmet would salivate over his best ever feast. She’d kill to have him look at her that way every day. 

See? Dreaming again. 

Joel rolled each of her nipples in turn between his thumb and forefinger. Nothing had ever felt this good, or left her so desperate for more. She squirmed beneath him, her panties already damp with her desire. 

He lowered his head to her breasts, and between long, leisurely licks that made her thighs quiver, he asked, “Are you sure about this? I’ll stop if you want.” 

“Want you inside me.” She panted and unfastened her waistband. When she lifted her hips, he pulled her Lykae military-issue trousers over her thighs. Somehow her panties came with them. Tricksy, adorable wolf. Her hand shook as she fumbled at the leather thong holding up his pants. 

Joel grinned, pulled off his military shirt, and kicked off his pants. Once they were both naked, he bent closer and took possession of her lips. Their kiss was endless, their passion igniting. 

Sweet sensation consumed her. Her pussy throbbed in anticipation, and her throat dried. Her fingers curled until her nails dug into her palms. Nervous but excited, she relaxed her hand and reached for his cock. It felt hot and hard, and her fingers didn’t quite close around it. 

He growled and thrust into her fist. 

Her feelings consumed her. This ardor was too much, her need too great. She took quick, shallow breaths as she stared at his high cheekbones and kissable lips. When she looked into his eyes, she thought she’d drown. 

Thursday, 26 March 2015

Five Fact Thursday. Kryssie Fortune shares Five Facts about the KNIGHTS TEMPLAR

1.           The Knights Templar badge is two men on one horse.

2.           The Knights Templar supposedly guard the Holy Grail. Perhaps that was the inspiration for Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

3.           The Knights Templar invented Travellers cheques. A pilgrim could pay in money before they started their journey and withdraw it when they reached their destination.

4.           Friday the thirteenth is the date the Pope and King Phillip lV ordered the Templars disbanded. It meant he didn't have to repay the money they'd leant him. The Templars were rounded up and tortured until they admitted blasphemous acts.

5.           Legends tell of a band of knights, survivors from the Friday the Thirteenth massacre  fighting with the Swiss against their oppressors. These knights went on to form the Knights Templar. 

When I wrote Knights Vampire, I needed to invent a whole new order of Knights. I researched the Knights Templar and Knights Hospitaller  then came up with Knights Defender. They were a pan-European order of Knights who stood for Truth and Justice. They also fought in the crusades. 

About Knights Vampire

Betrayed by the Knight Defenders and murdered by his cousin, crusader knight Blaxton de Ferrers rose as a vampire. For nine centuries, he’s preyed on the people he once swore to protect. Gradually, as his emotions leach out of him, he forgets how to feel. Then he meets Harriet.

Harriet Mortlake’s a strong sassy woman who battles her weight and her temper. Her job is to seek out the ancient secrets of the castle that was Blaxton’s childhood home. Instead, she finds the love of her life.

When danger threatens Harriet, Blaxton steps in. Harriet and Blaxton, are a match made in heaven. Except… he’s a vampire and to fully claim her, he’ll have to kill her.

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“How dare you embarrass me like that?” Harriet Mortlake planted her hands on her hips and glowered at the man she’d cornered outside the cafe. Spitting mad, she wanted to slap the condescending smile off his face. Normally, she was iceberg cool, but as hard as she tried to keep her expression neutral, she could feel lightning bolts flashing from her eyes. 

“It’s a temple, not a chapel,” he insisted. 

Stubborn. Damn. Male. She’d been showing the big guns from the Castles’ Management Trust round the building, but they clearly thought her too young for her role as Whitborough Castle’s archivist. She’d almost been too angry to think when this know-it-all first sounded off. Now he infuriated her all over again. 

Harriet snorted. “As if! No way would medieval Christians build a pagan temple on their grounds. Superstitious locals would probably have accused them of devil worship and burned them at the stake. Any fool knows that.” 

Her degree in library science made her suitable for the post. The castle manager had told her afterward that she’d been the only applicant. She’d almost stuck her tongue out at the head office guys and yelled Beggars can’t be choosers. 

Despite Mr. Condescending’s interference, she’d managed to impress the big bosses—she thought. He flashed her a smile so electrifying it would have lit up the dingy, underground chapel where he’d embarrassed her earlier. The way he sat there dripping sex appeal, her anger might have evaporated. If only he hadn’t needed to have the last word. 

He took another sip of coffee. “You really should get your facts right.” 

Stupid, arrogant male. She couldn’t decide whether to show him her diplomas and degrees or kick his shins. Professional to the core, she’d reined in her temper while the higher-ups carried out their inspection, but now that they’d left, she felt free to vent her rage. 

Hands still on her hips, she tapped her foot at him. “Lost for words without an audience? Or maybe you can’t back up your cock-and-bull story? Put up or shut up, Mister. Tell me why you think it’s a temple.” 

Mr. Condescending sat outside the tearoom as if he hadn’t a care in the world and enjoyed the early afternoon sunshine. He didn’t know it, but his interference when she’d shown the bigwigs into the chapel could have cost her a job she loved. Whitborough Castle’s extensive records needed cataloging, and she considered herself fortunate to work here. Only sometimes, she got a someone’s watching me feeling that unsettled her. 

The last two archivists had vanished, and the police were “looking into it”—whatever that meant. Now people viewed the post as a poisoned chalice. Harriet knew an opportunity when she saw it, and she’d grabbed it with both hands. Everything should have been perfect, but it wasn’t. From day one—just four weeks ago—she’d felt as if the castle’s ghosts studied her as eagerly as she studied the records. Paranoid or what? 

After an early start, she met the bigwigs from Castles’ Management Trust for the first time. Things had been going well. Okay, they’d been surprised by her youth, and clearly considered her too inexperienced for the post of archivist. By the time they reached the chapel, she’d almost won them over. Then Mr. Condescending here stuck his oar in, and if she hadn’t handled him right, she’d probably have lost her job. 

Teeth gritted, Harriet had thanked him for his interest and told him politely that he was mistaken. Intimidating and so tall she had to look up to see his face, he made her think of the Norman conquerors who’d built the castle. He was all muscle, sex, and sin—but his stubborn assertion that the chapel had been a temple sparked her temper. 

Her mouth had watered when she’d first seen him, but his cavalier attitude infuriated her. If her employers hadn’t been watching, she’d have told him exactly what she thought. She’d have regretted it later—maybe—but her temper had helped her survive ever since as a young girl she’d dragged her mother to the women’s shelter. 

There he went with that dazzling smile again. He had to be the most handsome man she’d seen in… Well, forever. His masculine essence—sandalwood and exotic spices—wrapped warm tendrils around her heart. Her breasts perked up beneath her blouse, and they ached for his touch. 

Her favorite bra suddenly felt so tight it abraded her nipples like sandpaper, and an unfamiliar tingling started in her cunt. Why did her anger evaporate, just because he smiled? What sort of fool woman caved just because a man had the most kissable lips ever? Lips she wanted to taste…repeatedly. Not that having such a tempting mouth made him less condescending. She paused, seeking the right riposte to tear him to shreds. 

He stood up and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Blaxton de Ferrers.” 

His voice—a deep, masculine rumble that made her want to beg him to say her name—thrilled her more than his smile. This man just kept getting better, but she’d come here to confront him, not drag him over the table and kiss him until they ran out of breath. 

Something wild, almost primal, stirred inside her, but she wasn’t the sort of predatory female who encouraged strange men into her bed. Apart from one disastrous night with Martin, she was practically a virgin. Afterward, he’d told his friends she was frigid, and they’d christened her “the ice queen.” She’d squared her shoulders and stood tall—half an inch short of six feet—and ignored them. But her dating confidence had sunk to zero. After that she’d channeled her anger into her studies rather than sex. 

Today her body went into sensual overdrive and demanded— Hell, she wasn’t sure what she wanted, but it was all bound up in Blaxton de Ferrers, aka Mr. Condescending. 

He told her quietly, “It’s polite to shake someone’s hand when they offer it.” 

She kept her hands firmly on her hips. Where did this jerk get off, reprimanding her about her manners? He took condescending to a whole new level, but he’d picked on the wrong girl when he’d heckled her. “Not when they damn near cost me my job. I needed to make a good impression, and you took over like you knew everything there is to know about this place. And heads-up, Mister. It’s rude to stare at my breasts.” 

He grinned again. His smile melted her heart and warmed her soul. “Actually, I was staring at your name tag. Harriet’s a pretty name. It suits you.” 

Talk about open mouth and insert foot. Harriet blushed and wished she’d said nothing. And hang on… De Ferrers? The family who once owned this castle? Someone once told Harriet she was part cat—always curious, always asking questions—and she supposed they’d been right. 

MFRW Authors: Werewolves on #MFRWorg #Thursday13 with #MFRWautho...

MFRW Authors: Werewolves on #MFRWorg #Thursday13 with #MFRWautho...: MFRW Author Kryssie Fortune joins us for Thursday 13. Kryssie Fortune is a Yorkshire lass who is lucky enough to live within driving distan...

Saturday, 21 March 2015

From 1945 With So Much Love

I'm a sucker for love and romance - and life doesn't get more romantic than this love letter. I'm going through my mum's things  after her funeral, and I found this letter.
Sorry folks, it too old and well-thumbed to scan so you'll have to make do with my typing

1590874 D, F.Sgt J. P. Luck
189 Squadron
Royal Air Force


My Dearest One,
Today, for me, is very happy. I hope with all my heart that when you receive this you will be equally as happy. I’ve often told you that I love you and now I’m reiterating that fact.
I love you me darling with all that love that is in me to give. Without you, my sweet, life would be empty and not worth living. Whenever I think of you, Joan, it’s of the dearest, sweetest, truest person in the world. Unfortunately, at the moment, I can’t be with you to tell you all these things darling so I have to write instead.
With you at my side, Joan, I can face anybody or anything and win through. What I’m trying to tell you, Joan, is that you I’m so in love with that that I can never stop thinking o you. You’re always in my thoughts, sweet, no matter where I am.
What I’m trying to ask you, Joan though I haven’t succeeded up to now is this. WILL YOU BECOME ENGAGED TO ME DARLING? Nothing can make me happier, Joan, than you saying yes. I’ll do anything for you to make you happy. Please, darling, say yes.
Being married to you will make me happier by far than I have ever been. We’ve had lots of fun together and I know that we both have happy memories that we share. I’d like nothing better than to be able to go on making and sharing many more al our through. Joan, if you say yes, I shall be so utterly and completely happy that I’ll not know which way to turn. Even to ask to marry me makes me happier than I’ve been for a long time. I long with all my heart to be with you to ask, Joan, but as I can’t I’m writing to ask instead.
I’d give anything now to be with you just for five minutes. Believe me ,sweet, I love you with all my heart and I’m longing to be with you more than I ever thought it was possible  to miss anyone. Someday I’ll be back again and I hope to be reunited with you as my fiancĂ©.
We differ over religion, my sweet, but we talked all that over a long time ago, didn’t we. I’ll be waiting for your letting in reply to this more eagerly than I do for your other letters.
You know I love you, Joan. I’ve often you so. It still goes darling, and it will always be so. Even if you say no. I’ll still love you. I guess you know that though, Joan, otherwise I wouldn’t have written this.
I’m feeling happy tonight. I hope it’s a lucky omen. Please, Joan, try to make it so. You’ve said that you love me, sweet, and now I’m asking if you’d like to marry me when I come home again.
Well, Joan, I’ll finish on this page so far the moment, I’ll leave you my sweet.
I’m yours alone so all my love darling

It's deeply personal but too touching not to share.
Even the airmail envelope is evocative of wartime.
It has a box that reads
I certify on my honour that 
        the contents of this envelope refer
                  to nothing but private and family matters
                        Name Only    J.P. Luck 

Yes, my maiden name really was Luck. Now you know where the fortune in my pen name comes from. 

Mum and dad were deeply in love and spent the rest of their lives together. Now they are reunited.

Thursday, 19 March 2015

Five Facts Thursday - please welcome Brenda Sparks

 Five facts about Las Vegas:

1. There is a “heavy equipment playground” in Las Vegas where you can drive bulldozers for fun.
2.There is a secret city under Las Vegas that is inhabited by nearly 1000 people in a massive tunnel system that runs under and around the Casinos.
3. The reflective surface of the Vdara hotel in Las Vegas concentrates the sun’s rays into a “death ray” that creates dangerously hot areas around the pool.
4. Customers weighing over 350 pounds eat for free at the Heart Attack Grill restaurant in Las Vegas.
5. The US Air Force operates a small airline out Las Vegas airport that has daily shuttles for workers to and from Area 51.

Book buy links: 

Amazon US     
All Romance     
Barnes and Noble 


In the shadows of the night, there exists a band of warriors--a group of vampires, known as the Alpha Council. Their formidable leader, Stephan von Haas, has vowed to protect not only his kind but the humans existing alongside them. His duty comes before all else--until a sassy blonde saunters into his life.
When a sensual, dark-haired stranger walks into Katrina Spencer's life, he stirs her deepest desires and sweeps her into a world beyond her wildest dreams. But when Katrina is targeted by Stephan's enemies, reality shifts into something violent and deadly, as she is thrust into a realm where vampires stalk the shadows and vengeance is coming for her.
Together they will confront an extraordinary destiny of peril, passion, and dark pleasures. But when one horrid mistake brings retribution, their love may pay the price.


“So tell me, young one, is Kat short for
something or did your parents just have a
fascination with felines?”
“It’s short for Katrina. But everyone calls me Kat.”
She began to gather the playing cards from the
table, but Stephan stilled her shaking hands by covering
them with his own. Something akin to an electric
current passed between them. Katrina gazed at Stephan,
drinking him in, dangerous, magnificent, and so very
“Where are my manners?” she asked, her voice
quivering. “Would you like a drink?”
“You read my mind,” he replied as he rose, pulling
her toward him. “I am a little parched, actually.”
Their eyes locked and Kat once again fell into his
dark gaze. Her mind detached, as if she watched herself
from above.
The feel of his mouth registered on her lips, while
the smell of sandalwood engulfed her. His lips
feathered kisses down her jaw, coming to a rest where
her shoulder met her throat. She swooned. His arms
closed around her like a set of steel bands, pulling her
up against his firm body. Kat moaned when his tongue
flicked out to taste her sensitive skin. He inhaled deeply
against her neck causing goose bumps to pimple her
“Honeysuckle,” he murmured, his lips brushing
against her flesh. His fangs lengthened, scraping the
skin where her pulse beat, sending her heart racing. He
cupped her bottom in one hand and tightened his arm
around her waist. Her body stiffened only a little as he
pulled her tighter against him, lifting her off her feet.